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‘And there’s a few others around the house that collectors would like to get their mitts on.’
‘You can’t sell your clocks, Dad, not for me.’ Minnie shook her head slowly. ‘You spent so much time on them.’
Her dad nodded solemnly.
‘Maybe I spent too much time on them, didn’t spend enough time on what’s important.’ He stretched his large hand around his chin and squeezed his cheeks together. ‘No regrets though, hey.’ He paused. ‘I see so much of myself in you, Minnie Moo,’ he said, putting an arm around her shoulder. ‘If you’ve got a chance, I want you to have it.’
They stood watching Coggie for a moment.
‘Does Mum know they’re valuable?’
‘Does she heck!’ her dad laughed. ‘I always told her they were junk. She’s going to go category nine ballistic.’
He rubbed both palms up and down across his eyes. Minnie couldn’t believe her dad had been sitting on a small fortune all this time, or that he’d just offered to give it to her. Her heart swelled with affection for both her parents.
‘We’ll just make sure Mum’s in one of her “gardening moods” before we say anything, shall we?’ said her dad.
20 October 2020
Her laptop was charged, the presentation loaded, and Minnie was wearing a new black jumpsuit paired with red lipstick. One of the Instagram influencers she followed had worn an outfit just like this. She’d decided at 2 a.m. last Monday that this was the look that was going to win her the investment.
She’d spent the last few weeks racking her brains as to how she could raise the rest of the money needed to set up her ‘Buy a Pie, Give a Pie’ scheme. It was Greg’s words that rang in her head – ‘Contacts, contacts, contacts.’ Who did she know who was well connected in the corporate catering world? Lucy Donohue, that’s who.
Greg had told her that, since leaving the newspaper, Lucy had a new job running corporate catering for Lexon, one of the biggest banks in London. She was exactly the person Minnie needed to get behind her idea. In the past, Minnie would have just assumed that someone like Lucy would never give her a meeting, would never take her seriously. She would have been too intimidated to ask. Now Minnie felt differently. It would probably come to nothing, but she had to try. No regrets.
Greg and his flatmate Clive had helped her put together a PowerPoint presentation with statistics and graphics.
‘Don’t be too effusive,’ Clive prepped her. ‘Don’t act like she’s doing you a favour. You’re doing her a favour by bringing her the idea.’
‘And put your hair up,’ said Greg. ‘Don’t hide behind your hair – you always do that, it’s annoying.’
‘And take a business plan printed out to leave with her. She’ll want to look at the numbers once you go,’ said Clive.
‘And take a pie,’ said Greg. ‘That’s your product, that’s important.’
‘And testimonials,’ said Clive. ‘Everyone loves a testimonial.’
‘Oh god,’ said Minnie, trying to take it all in.
Greg put a hand on each shoulder. ‘You can do this Minnie, I know you can.’
Since they broke up, Greg had finally decided to start work on the book he’d always wanted to write: Jennifer Aniston’s unofficial biography. The process of writing it had led him to reassess his priorities in life. He’d called Minnie a few months ago to say that, like Jen, he was happy being single, that he didn’t need a partner to define him, and that he wanted to champion the women in his life, so if she ever needed championing, he would be there. Minnie hadn’t realised how deeply his passion for Jennifer Aniston ran, but this new, supportive, Jennified Greg was definitely an improvement.
*
Walking into the shiny Lexon offices, Minnie felt like Sheryl Sandberg and Hilary Clinton rolled into one. Katy Perry’s‘Roar’ played in her head and she was definitely strutting as she walked – Minnie never strutted. Lucy and a man in a pinstripe suit with dark, slicked-back hair welcomed her into their boardroom. There were miniature bottles of water lined up in a row along the enormous boardroom table and huge shiny wall-mounted TV screens at either end of the room.
‘Thank you for meeting with me,’ Minnie said, shaking Lucy’s hand while fastidiously keeping eye contact. She wanted to say that she knew Lucy was busy, that she wouldn’t keep them long, but she stopped herself – that would be old Minnie talking.
‘We’ve met before, right?’ said Lucy, squinting, trying to place her. ‘Greg was rather vague on the phone.’
‘Yes – last New Year’s Eve,’ Minnie said. ‘At the Night Jam.’
Lucy cocked her head to one side and then slowly looked Minnie up and down.
‘Oh yes … ’ A glimmer of recognition. ‘I hardly recognised you, have you changed your hair?’
Minnie launched into the presentation. She’d rehearsed it so many times over the last few days. She had all the stats and figures. She’d even made a short video of her old clients explaining what a difference it made to their lives, having her pies delivered.
